


The Bishop's Opening

by KanuKoris



Series: The Bishop DeSoto, Long May He Reign [1]
Category: The Outer Worlds (Video Game)
Genre: Bishop Max, Board Ending, Chairman Rockwell (mentioned), Chess Metaphors, Darkest Timeline Max, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Friends to Enemies, Mind Games, Political Intrigue, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Sophia Akande (mentioned), Unreliable Crew (mentioned)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:55:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21751837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KanuKoris/pseuds/KanuKoris
Summary: Captain Hawthorne takes an audience with his Eminence, the Bishop Maximillian DeSoto, to see if buried deep within the austere leader of the Order of Scientific Inquiry is the Vicar she once knew.
Relationships: The Captain/Maximillian DeSoto
Series: The Bishop DeSoto, Long May He Reign [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1567744
Comments: 28
Kudos: 62





	1. The Bishop's Opening

Captain Hawthorne felt a prickle between her shoulder blades that crept up the length of her neck as she was escorted through the grand halls of the Headquarters of the Order of Scientific Inquiry. It wasn’t just the enormous gold banners, or the vault ceilings, or the obscene amount of wealth on display… it was that the place was so _clean_.

Hawthorne wondered at the amount of resources it took to keep this church so absolutely spotless when it was a Sisyphean task for every other dusty corner of the Halcyon colony. She couldn’t think of a greater testament to the Order’s excess.

“His Eminence, the Bishop Maximillian DeSoto.”

Her lips quirked at the grandiose sound of that title, despite feeling a bit spooked by the theatrics of everything else.

Guards fully encased in elite trooper armor with the OSI symbol filigreed onto their pauldrons (fucking _filigreed_ ) uncrossed their sparking shock lances to allow her through. The office was deep and she had to walk down a substantial length of ornamented carpet to get to the opulent desk of the Presiding Bishop, and face the man sitting regally behind it.

She let out a low whistle. “Come quite a long way from ‘Vicar’, haven’t we, Max?”

“Keep sounding surprised and I may have to feel offended.” The smirk on his face was friendly and he gestured to a chair in front of his desk. “Captain – you still fly the Unreliable, don’t you? Have a seat.”

Captain Hawthorne sat down, resting one of her legs on top of the other in a relaxed fashion, though the armed guards changing positions in order to face her did not escape her notice. Everyone was keeping up a light and airy pretense that this was an ordinary visit between two friends, even with the weapons out on display and the tension rife in the air. Even the easy friendliness was performative, for she had not seen the Vicar in many long years.

_Bishop_. _The Bishop_.

Hawthorne took a good look at the man who sat in a literal seat of power, and she had the sense that he was observing her just as thoroughly. The years had not changed him much, he looked almost the same as when he flew with her on the Unreliable, though there was now a distinguished graying at his temples. He wore vestments of a much deeper blue, almost black, with a high white collar circling his throat. A gold chain with the OSI’s symbol hung from his neck. Though they looked simple at first blush, she could see the richness of the fabric, the quality of the cut, and reckoned the cost of his new vestments could lease an apartment in the lower Byzantium quarter for a whole season.

“Power suits you,” she remarked neutrally.

His eyebrows rose slightly. She could see he was flattered, but also suspicious. “It does. Though I’m not sure if you meant that as a compliment.”

Captain Hawthorne gave a demure smile in response. “On the contrary, I’m pleased to see the years treat you so well. I heard scraps here and there that you had been stationed in Byzantium, but I confess, I didn’t realize the change in OSI leadership meant you. I would have sent a card.”

“Well, several years late is better than never.”

There was a bite to her voice that sent a shiver running through him. “Forgive me, your _Eminence_.”

He finally had the good grace to look a little bashful, a self-conscious tilt to his head as he rested his arms against his chest and began to relax. “Alright, you don’t need to make it sound like a slur. Your entrance into Byzantium wasn’t discreet, you know. You’ll have to pardon me for sending the Scientist Guard to ‘strongly encourage’ you to pay me a visit first, but I couldn’t trust you not to act like a Law forsaken miscreant.”

Captain Hawthorne eyed him warily. He was beginning to sound like Max, the Vicar who had traveled and fought by her side, but she wasn’t sure if that made her feel safe enough to lower her guard.

She and Ellie had barely been on Byzantium for an hour before they were cornered by the guards and ‘escorted’ at gunpoint. Hawthorne had frankly been shocked when they were brought to the OSI temple. She had expected to be taken (in cuffs) to answer to Adjutant Akande.

“You’re saying that like you did me a favor,” she said cautiously.

“I did.” The light tone in his voice was gone and he looked stern. “Byzantium is not the hold of your ship nor is it a tavern on a worker’s outpost. You’re ruffling feathers. They’re looking for a reason to treat you like a criminal. Don’t make it so damn easy for them.”

Captain Hawthorne frowned. Something felt very familiar, even comforting, with how frankly Max was speaking to her. It sounded like he was trying to warn her. But this was a picture with a water stain, some kind of blemish that made it look not quite right. Her eyes traveled along the gold plating on his desk, the large and ornate ring of office on his right finger, and the long gold chain with the OSI’s symbol hanging just below his heart.

“They?” she asked delicately, and he knew where her gaze had traveled and what the weight behind her question meant. “I find it hard to believe I’d be sat here if the Adjutant didn’t want for me to be.”

To his credit, he didn’t try to pretend otherwise. “She thought you would be more amenable if you saw a familiar face. I tried to warn her that you were more stubborn than a cystipig.”

She couldn’t help but smirk a little at that.

He continued, “Adjutant Akande is content to let you go about your business, so long as you don’t force her hand. So, Captain? Could you not be fucking difficult?”

He wasn’t denying his allegiances, though she had to remind herself that from the beginning he had always proudly been a man of the Law. She felt a stab of disappointment though, quickly burying the traitorous thought – _your loyalty used to be mine._

Still, here he was trying to warn her. Not to his own peril, or even the inconvenience of his current station. But when he could have easily done nothing, he had instead sought her out.

She decided to press her luck. Captain Hawthorne had built a reputation on being bold, after all. “The fastest way to get me out of your hair would be to do me a favor. For old time’s sake?”

He gave her an incredulous and annoyed look. It made her laugh.

“ _Max_. What is the point in being friends with his ‘Most Scientific’ if I can’t wrangle a favor from the Bishop every once in a blue moon? It’s nothing terrible. I just want an invitation to Chairman Rockwell’s party.”

He blinked once, slowly, as if he needed a second to process her audacity. Instead of angering him, which she knew was a close thing, his surprise finally turned to amusement. “You want… to attend a party?”

She tried to put on an innocent face. “Surely the Bishop of the Scientician Order could get my name on the guest list?”

“Why the fuck do you want to go to the Chairman’s party?”

“Who doesn’t like a good time?” She gave him a wicked look that made his shoulders stiffen. “Maybe I’m hankering for a dance from a handsome priest.”

He let out an exasperated ‘huff’ that failed to completely mask his pleasure at hearing a compliment, even if it was a teasing one. “I want to make myself clear: the security at the Chairman’s estate will be heightened during his function, and if they catch you doing a thing untoward, I will not help you. You will _not_ embarrass me. You will _not_ make me regret being associated with you in public.”

“Authority has made you more forceful too. You were always a demanding bastard, but I think taking orders from me did you a world of good.”

The Bishop DeSoto was not the type of man to blush, but he froze still for a moment. Finally, through dry lips he murmured, “That’s a matter of opinion.”

She let him squirm a little longer, before easing the mood back to playful rather than predatory. “Max… Maximillian? I promise I’ll behave. Now, help an old friend out.”

He rolled his eyes at her, though he seemed relieved to be back on less treacherous ground. “I’ll see what I can do. On your own head be it.”

“Thank you, Max.”

Captain Hawthorne rose to her feet, not wanting to wear out her welcome or push her luck any further. Max did not rise with her, though he watched her intently, a finger tracing around the letters that made up the OSI symbol hanging from his neck. Contemplative.

Finally, he said, “Join me for a drink tomorrow night. I’ll have your invitation by then, if I can procure it.”

His tone was just a touch too casual, and he couldn’t quite meet her eyes. Though something she couldn’t quite put a finger on was making her feel uneasy, she found something more compelling about him expectantly waiting for her answer.

“It would be my pleasure… Bishop.”

He merely nodded, though his shoulders seemed to relax a little, and Captain Hawthorne finally took her leave. Striding towards the doors, the armed guards hefting their lances to allow her through – a bishop at her back – the Captain had the peculiar sensation that she was a lone piece marching across a chessboard.


	2. In Vino Veritas

The Bishop sent another escort to fetch Captain Hawthorne the next day, although this time he sent a message formally inviting her ahead of time, and when the elite guards arrived they were accompanied by an unarmed priest who was meant to act as her guide.

“Is he still a tossball fanatic?”

The young priest, a somewhat awkward and shy man, coughed around his nervous laughter. “Bishop DeSoto is usually kept very busy with his duties… but I have heard he listens to the occasional game when he has the time.”

Hawthorne heaved a sigh. Law, did it sound boring.

She wasn’t successful in ferreting out any more gossip from the young priest before they were ascending the OSI Headquarters in an ornate elevator. They rode in silence, almost to the very top, before the doors opened and the priest bade her exit.

“The Bishop is expecting you.”

The two guards followed her out of the elevator onto a floor that only featured a large set of double-doors – his living quarters, she assumed. Her guard detail positioned themselves at the entrance to stand sentry and she hefted the doors open.

The Bishop’s apartment was what she expected – extravagant. There seemed to be multiple connected rooms, tastefully furnished, and there were bookshelves _everywhere_. Her lips quirked into a smile as she padded through the main sitting room and saw stacks of books piled in every available corner, too many to be fashionable. At least one thing had not changed about the man.

The smile faded a little as she privately wondered about all the things _that had_.

“Captain. I thought you could join me out here.”

She heard his voice call out from further in, and she found that the rooms opened up to a spacious balcony. There was a comfortable looking sitting area and a view of the city’s mid-court. Max was pouring a bottle of wine into a glass for her.

Hawthorne rested an arm against the balcony’s polished stone railing and meant to take a sip of the wine just to be polite, but let out a surprised squeak when the velvety liquid touched her tongue.

“ _Law_ , what – that is… heavenly.” Her eyes were wide as she took a second, careful sip. “Is this real fruit?”

Max chuckled as he poured a glass for himself and handed her the bottle for inspection. “Despite what you may think, even I can’t afford fruit wine. It’s still Rizzo’s Purpleberry, just not recycled so many times it could strip tar.”

Hawthorne could barely believe that the smoky liquid she was swirling on her tongue had any relation to the chemical hooch that usually came rattling out of a vending machine. It was going quickly to her head and she sank against the stone railing, her eyes slipping shut.

“You like it,” she heard him say from somewhere close.

“It tastes of Earth.” She slowly opened her eyes, taking in the alien sky. “It’s a taste I remember from a very long time ago.”

He watched her with an inscrutable look, though his eyes were soft. As if her words had moved him. As if he was being reminded again that she was a woman a step out of time, a rarity, and he was appreciating her unique place in the Universal Equation all over again.

He reached over to pick up a slim data card off the balcony table. He held it between his fingers and passed it toward her. “Present this at the door. It will let you into the Chairman’s party.”

She took the data card with a soft ‘thank you’ and turned it over in her fingers a few times before slipping it into the inner lining of her jacket. She looked up at Max, who seemed a touch more relaxed and worldly, away from the gaudy trappings of his office. She had only a few sips of the wine, but something was making her feel warm and forthright.

She could have been more tactful. “Why is Akande letting me attend the party if she thinks I’m up to something?”

But then, she had always been blunt to a fault.

Max gave her a loaded look over the rim of his glass, before sipping at the dark wine. “Why would you attend a party if you’re expecting a trap?”

She didn’t have a quick enough answer for that.

Max joined her by the railing, resting his elbows against the stone and casting his gaze far off into the horizon. The sky was beginning to darken.

“Whether he would like to admit it or not, Chairman Rockwell would not have been able to implement his Lifetime Employment Program successfully without your help. And he would like very much to _not owe you_.” Max’s eyes flashed and she could pick up the thread of danger running through his words.

“Adjutant Akande is cautious of you, but she’s cautious of everyone. You’ve proven yourself to be useful, but you also refuse to give the Board your fulltime commitment. She finds your independence problematic. Especially when, in action at least, you seem to show more loyalty to MSI.”

Hawthorne felt pinned down by his words, his voice a low rumble. “Akande will tolerate you, but she is not a friend to you.”

Hawthorne chewed on that thought, as she looked over to him. Taking in the stern lines of his face. “And you? Are you a friend to me?”

“I could ask the same of you.” His gaze met hers, his eyes half-lidded. “Until you do something publicly against the Board’s interests, their hands are tied. So for your sake… be careful you don’t start your own witch hunt at the party. They know. They know what you did for Sanjar.”

Captain Hawthorne felt a chill run down her back. She wasn’t a fool, she knew that her exploits would have reached the Board eventually. She just hadn’t expected to have to answer for them to the former Vicar. That had thrown her off-balance.

“I just helped him requisition some surplus stock. I even have a paper trail for it. All ‘above board’,” she said calmly, though the air was thick with unspoken words and wine.

Max pushed off the balcony and came over to her side, an arm slithering behind her back and pulling her close so that he could whisper into her ear. “When the ‘surplus stock’ is a cache of armor and guns? That’s a fucking act of war, Alex, and you know it.”

He then clinked his glass to hers and released his hold on her, as if he had only come over to touch their glasses in ‘cheers’.

She swallowed. Hard.

It took her an immense amount of will to gather the shreds of her composure back together and stop them from shaking loose again. She felt like she had taken a step into the ocean and had suddenly been swept under by a gigantic wave. Drowning in bottomless waters without knowing which way was up or down.

As ridiculous as she found their extravagances and pettiness… the Board and the Byzantium elite could be frightening. She was beginning to learn just how much.

“Are you their man? It seems like they’ve certainly gone to some effort to buy your loyalties.”

“I’m not _your_ man, Hawthorne. Is that what you’re really trying to ascertain?” The expression on his face was cool and matter-of-fact.

That seemed as clear of an answer as she could have wanted. It was almost as if she could see the line being drawn between them at their feet. She felt disappointed, but not surprised. Max was not the first person she had taken a shine to that had stood in the way of her goal. Not the first adversary she had locked horns with that she had been drawn to inexorably.

She drank more deeply of the intoxicating wine, feeling better now that it was clear where they both stood. She wouldn’t pull any punches in regards to him now. A soft moan escaped her lips as she savored the heady taste. “Fuck me... there had better be more of this stuff at Rockwell’s party.”

His glass stumbled against his lips on his next sip. A little stiffly, he said, “I’m sure you’ll find the Chairman’s hospitality more than adequate.”

“Will you be there?” She asked, the thought suddenly coming to mind.

“I will.”

A delighted smirk curved onto her lips. “Perfect. You did promise me a dance. I’m going to hold you to it, Vicar.”

Her hand snaked over to the front of his robes, twirling around the gold chain around his neck and pulling him toward her. With a raised eyebrow, he took in her silly smile, the teasing look in her eye, and the slight sway to her steps. He closed a large, rough hand over hers. “I made you no such promise, and I’m no longer a Vicar. And while I did uncork this vintage for you to enjoy, perhaps you should enjoy it a bit more slowly.”

She let him take the almost empty glass out of her hand, but refused to give up playing with his pendant, twirling more of the gold chain around her fingers and entangling them. “The Bishop plies me with top notch drink, but he brings doom and gloom to my doorstep, the Board’s _errand boy_.”

She tugged sharply on the chain, surprising Max and forcing him to bring his face beneath her gaze or risk the chain snapping. She spoke with the wine’s perfume on her lips. “I miss the Vicar. A pompous bastard, even then, but one who got his hands dirty, fearless, and who _came alive_ in a fight.”

She could see his brow knit together, his voice growing rougher as he tried to keep his mounting ire in check. “You’re a lush, Hawthorne.”

There was no mistaking the teeth in her words, and she saw that his eyes kept slipping down to her mouth. “Do you still struggle with your ‘violent enthusiasm’? Or did the Board geld you and plate your balls in gold too?”

Whatever murky interest had been dancing in his eyes constricted to flashes of anger. She heard him collect his breath in a low hiss, his hand closing over hers and squeezing tight enough to bruise. With a strength meant to intimidate, he pulled her hand away from him, catching her wrist in his steel grip. Her mouth fell open in delight, and she saw his brow twitch when a jerky laugh escaped her lips.

“Oh, the Bishop _did_ keep his temper. Perfect.”

He stepped in so he could tower over her, leveraging every inch of his impressive height to drive his growled warning home. “And I will make you sorely regret ever testing it. Say another word, Hawthorne. _I fucking dare you_.”

But she laughed, struggling lightly in his grip, the wicked look in her eyes shining with triumph. “There he is. There’s the Max I remember. Thank the Law.”

He released her wrist as if it burned him, taking a step back with a dark look of confusion on his face. He looked unsettled that she had wound him up and toyed with him so effortlessly. Even though they were in his territory, in the heart of the OSI church, and on his invitation no less – it felt like the battlefield was hers.

Captain Hawthorne stepped toward him, and he retreated until the backs of his thighs were bumping against the balcony railing and he had nowhere to go. She pressed in, heard his breath catch in his throat, and she pressed her smile to his mouth, teeth tugging lightly against his lip.

His eyes were stormy, spooked, when she drew back. He asked in a harsh whisper, “What was that?”

She brought her lips to his ear, whispering against them lightly. Ticklish. “A fucking act of war.”

Captain Hawthorne bade the Bishop a wordless goodbye with an insolent wink, before exiting the balcony and disappearing into the depths of his apartment. He heard the faint sound of the front doors open. He was left reeling in silence, his lips burning, as the sun began to set and the Byzantium sky glowed with a dull fire all around him.

_An act of war?_

The glass in his hand shattered, cutting into the flesh of his palm. With trembling fingers he opened his grip and let glass shards, wine, and drops of blood spill at his feet. The sharp pain in his hand, now dulling to a throbbing ache, cut through the fog in his mind and tempered the fiery rage into something liquid and molten in his gut.

Contemplatively he sucked blood and wine from the heel of his palm.

 _My move next, Captain_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next installment is in progress and Sophia Akande will be making an appearance. Catch you then!

**Author's Note:**

> This is planned as the first installment of a larger series set in a post-game timeline where Max became the presiding Bishop of the OSI, and is pitted against Captain Hawthorne as the Halcyon colonies rise up in rebellion against the Board. I wanted to explore what Max as a villain/antagonist would look like, and dig into that lovers across enemy lines trope.
> 
> I'm writing the same Captain from my other fic, though this is a different 'what if?' timeline so it isn't necessary to read anything prior to this. You just may recognize her if you've read 'Some Unspoken Thing' (for which, I thank you).


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